


Nine

by the_creator



Category: Just Personal
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-18 09:13:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4700456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_creator/pseuds/the_creator





	1. Chapter 1

# Isabel

_Some of us never truly existed. Hell, maybe none of us exist in the way you think. What if we are only figments of someone else's imagination, and that as a result of this, that particular someone has had to imagine everything this way. That, my friend, is why we should be kinder to those we create._  
Isabel crumpled the note between her palms and scowled, tossing it into the overflowing trash bin, where it bounced off and rolled across the floor. She sighed and flopped back into her chair with her weight pulling almost painfully on her silky red hair. It had been days since she could write anything worth reading and it had made her a little more than irritable towards Cam, who still hadn't replied to her email.  


The weather outside was growing worse and it was now enough to make the lights flicker. Sure, it had been pretty horrific all afternoon, but now it was getting even worse; if that had even been possible. Abandoning her attempts to use her tired writing skills, Isabel slid into her window seat and watched. Trees danced through sepia toned light in curtains of rain, and glittered under the webs of lightning that streaked across the sky every so often. But the most impressive, Isabel thought, was the rolling thunder, low and deep enough to make her ribcage vibrate.

Her laptop let out a soft _ping_ that got her hopes up for an email from Cam; but it was only her mother. **Come downstairs Isabel I've been calling you for an hour.** Groaning audibly, she slipped on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, rather than wearing her night clothes, and opened the trap door out of her room so she could shimmy down the narrow octagonal tunnel on the iron rungs that had always reminded her of giant staples sticking out of the wall. The rest of the house did not share the decorative, colorful, boho-gypsy style of Isabel's room. No, the rest of the house was dull gold and beige and the creamy off-whites of her mother's liking. Cold and distant as the horizon in open sea.

From the warm kitchen wafted the smells of hot meat and gravy pies and cornbread, making Isabel's mouth water from just being there. "Well?" Isabel asked her mother, sneaking a few pumpkin cookies into her pocket along with an apple turnover. Her mother turned, wiping her floury hands on her apron. "Can you stay at someone's house from tonight through Samhain, Isabell?" Taken aback, Isabel stared at her mother as she continued, "It's because your father and I are going on a business trip"---her parents owned a beauty product business and often had to go on trips to plan new factories and whatnot---"and we need you to have somewhere to stay for the month that we will be gone." 

"Why can't I just stay here?" Isabel snapped, suddenly very angry at her mother. "It's not like you ever cared where I stayed before." 

A sigh of resigned annoyance was her answer. "I won't ask again, Isabel. Do what you're told." And with that, she turned back to her baking. Fuming, Isabel stormed off to her room. 

The minute Isabel made it up the ladder and let the trap door bang shut behind her, her mobile phone let out a sharp _ding_ and she nearly jumped out of her skin. It was Lisa and she wanted to know if Isabel could come over next Saturday; three days from now. 

Isabel flopped onto the floor and sighed. She wanted to go to Lisa's house, but that would mean admitting defeat.... She made a decision. **Can't I'm grounded** she typed and clicked **send**. Something about her mother's behavior still bothered her. Sure, they went on lots of business trips, but why was this one any different? Why were they asking her to find a place to stay when they hadn't shown interest in where she stayed before? Whatever the reason, Isabel was sure it wasn't good. 

_ding!_ **Awwww that sucks :(** Sighing again, she dropped the phone and slithered to the window, too lazy to walk there. It was dark and gloomy, the air thick with electricity. Something dark made its way into her peripheral vision. "Yeah, it's definitely going to storm." 

Adrenaline rushed into her joints, sending odd jumping sensations through her body and moving her heart to her throat. What she saw when she turned just a bit to her left made her scream; or it would have if the boy sitting there hadn't clamped a hand over her mouth, hissing at her to be quiet and that he wasn't there to hurt her. He had black hair that hung in a slightly curled silky mess around his angular face, eyes bluer than bottle glass and deeper than midnight skies, and he was definitely _right there next to her_. Not sure whether to hit him and run or to ask why he was there, Isabel decided to ask first and hit later. She nodded, the warm calloused hand left her mouth. His fine boned face was respectably far from hers, those angular eyes that spoke of Asian heritage watching her with burning curiosity. "Are you going to hit me?" He asked slowly, raising his arched eyebrows at Isabel in such a way that she simply burst out laughing. 

Who was this boy to show up in her room _uninvited_ and then to ask if she was going to hit him or not? And then, to top it off he says, quite seriously, "Please, don't hit me. I wouldn't appreciate it too much." Isabel nodded and asked how he got in her room. Her room is the attic of The Tower, which is the cylindrical part of the house rising about 20 feet above the main building.

"Let me see," a hand with neatly painted, sparkly blue nails tapped a forefinger on his chin, his eyebrows drawn in mock concentration. "I walked down the lane, through the front gates. And--you'll never guess what I did next!" He flashed a white-toothed grin, "I walked in through the front door and wandered my way up here!" He looked rather pleased with himself, Isabel noted irritably. "Well, you can wander your way back out, then." She said and leaned back against the alcove wall. "You can do that, can't you? Or do I need to be a gentleman and show you out?" 

The boy looked offended and opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, Isabel interrupted the thought with, "How old are you, anyway?" She thought that he looked about her age, 18. The boy leaned back with his knee drawn up, elbow resting on it, slender hand dangling in open air. "20 starting tomorrow..." His eyes rose to meet Isabel's. "Why?" 

"You looked about that," she sighed. "I was just wondering, alright? Why'd you sneak into my house in the first place? It's not as if I know you...and I'm pretty sure my parents don't. They aren't exactly--"

"The young adult loving type?" The electricity went completely out after he said this. 

Isabel got up and dug around in her desk for the matches. "Yeah, I'm Isabel. Who are you?" She said, tossing her possessions all over the floor in the process. As soon as her hands settled on the antique match box she started lighting candles. "Alexander, but you can call me Alex." Alex said as Isabel settled across from him once more, placing a kerosene lamp between them. The flame flickered dimly from within the thin porcelain shell decorated with delicately painted lilacs and fairies; her mother had bought her that lamp when she was little, and she's used it ever since.

The two of them sat with only the sound of the storm outside between them for quite some time before Isabel's phone made them both jump with surprise. Isabel read the message on her impossibly bright screen and sighed, turning the phone completely off. "Boyfriend trouble?" Alex asked without looking at her. She sighed again, staring at the lamp. "No."

Alex shifted his weight so he could face her a little better, his eye alight with interest. "Girlfriend trouble?" He waggled his eyebrows and made her giggle.

"No, not that either." She said. "My mom wants be to go to a friend's house for a while is all."

"And you don't want to go?" He seemed surprised about this. "You seem like the type to go to friend's houses--no offense."

"What do you mean I 'seem like the type?" 

"I don't know, you just do," He leaned back again. "I mean, the pretty hair and eyes," he gestured at her various features while he spoke, "the way you easily accepted that I just showed up. You just seem like the type." 

"Well, I'm not." Isabel said, shortly. She wasn't about to explain to some complete stranger that she got bounced off of any social group she tried to enter. Alex just nodded and didn't press any further, his eyes a million miles away. Isabel wondered if he had any friends. He seemed like the loner type to her. "Alex, why did you come here?"

He looked at her when she spoke, seeming to rise out of his subconscious like a bubble. "Oh," he blinked. "Um, I kind of didn't want to get rained on any more than I already had..." Fiddling with the thin glittering chain around his neck, Alex slid sideways against the wall, his dark hair falling away from his face. "I can leave if you want me to."

A sigh escaped her lips. "I guess you can stay until it stops raining, I'll just tell Mom that you're a gay friend staying over or something." Alex raised his eyebrows at her. "What?" she said defensively, "It's not like she'd let you stay over otherwise. Besides, being gay isn't something offensive so don't get your panties in a bunch over it."

"I know." He said, his lips curled up into a distinctly feline smile that made Isabel slightly disgusted with herself for feeling attracted to him. _He's pretty,_ she decided, _nothing more._ Isabel frowned, realization dawning on her, "Wait, are you--"

"Isabel!" Her dad called. "Are you dressed?"

Panicking, Isabel hopped up. "Um, just a minute!" She shouted, turning to Alex and hissing at him to get into the closet. He did with a fair amount of shoving from Isabel. And just in the nick of time too, because her dad pushed the trap door open, and Isabel leaned the closet door shut with her elbow, looking distinctly suspicious. "Hello, darling," he smiled, wrapping her in a fatherly hug, smelling of rain water and soft musk. "I've got something for you! It's on the table." He kissed her on the forehead stepped back. "You get prettier every time I see you, Isabel. What am I going to do?" 

"Papa," Isabel smiled shyly. "I'm not half as pretty as you say. What did you get me?"

"It's a surprise!" He says lightly, then disappears down through the trap door.

"You can come out now, Alex." Isabel says, feeling the warm joy that her father always gave her seeping out of her like water into the cracks of the sidewalk, "--he's gone." The door slid open slowly and Alex stepped out, something small and black streaking from behind his ankles and up the side of Isabel's book shelf. "Oh," Isabel notes. "Hi, Luca." 

The small black cat hissed, arching his back like a Halloween cat. His gold eyes burned hatefully at Alex who rolled his eyes and, to Isabel's surprise, hissed right back. "Be nice, you two." Isabel hit Alex on the back of the bead gently and just sighed in Luca's direction. "You," she pointed reproachfully at the cat who started bathing in a superior manner, "I'll deal with _you_ later." 

"I'd better go downstairs." Alex turned towards Isabel while she spoke, stealing annoyed glances at the cat. She patted his shoulder wanly as she passed and started down the ladder. "Stay here," she said, before disappearing completely and shutting the door behind her.


	2. Chapter 2

# Isabel

Isabel caught her parents on their way out the door, her father giving her one last hug and a quick kiss on the forehead as he left. "'Bye, Isabell. I love you."

She watched quietly through the parlor window until she couldn't see the headlights through the trees anymore. "So, they're just leaving you here?" Alex asked. He was standing close behind her, gazing out the window after her parents. Isabel shrugged. "Yeah, but I'm used to it. They go on business trips a lot."

"Hey!" Isabel punched Alex on the arm. "I thought I told you to stay upstairs!" 

Alex smirked. "Why? It's not like they would see me." 

"Of course they'd see you." Rolling her eyes, Isabel walked into the dining room where a dress box lay on the table. In the light cast from the rose scented candles in the silver candelabra, she could see that on top of the box was an envelope. Inside, was a short note in her father's smooth hand telling her that he loved her and that she was his greatest creation--the usual stuff from him, as if it made up for his being gone all the time--and that he hoped she would like the gift. Isabel folded the note and sighed, half-heartedly lifting the lid of the box. 

The dress was gorgeous. It was an elegant Victorian ball gown; various shades of deep blues and greys with hand embroidered ivy and flowers along the bottom. Isabel, who had man fine dresses couldn't help but admire all of this, the beadwork, the soft lace, the delicate balance of tiers and ethereally floating skirts. Isabel was about to fold the dress back into the box when she noticed that there were more pieces. "I can hold that for you," Alex offered as if reading her mind when she wondered about where to set the dress down. She nodded gratefully and gently lay the length of it over his outstretched arms. "Thanks, Alex." The things left in the box were: 1 corset, 1 pair of high heeled boots that buttoned up her calves, and a few different kinds of petticoats.

"You should try it on." Alex suggested sheepishly as she took the dress back. She raised an eyebrow, folding the watery material back into its box. "Should I?" 

"You don't have to," he said, looking at the floor. He bent and picked up a pale yellow and pink card. "I think this is for you." Isabel took the card and gasped. Her stomach dropped and she felt sick as she read the invitation. " _Crap._ " 

"I guess you do get to see the dress," she muttered then switched to a jokingly gentile and endearing manner. "Would you like to go to a ball with me tonight, kind sir? I would be ever so pleased if you could come with me; if that is not too forward, of course." 

Alex responded with a mocking show bow. "Of course, fine lady, but whatever shall I wear?" Isabel smiled wider and tossed the invitation onto the table, grabbing Alex's wrist. "Come with me." She took him up to the north west wing and into her father's dayroom where he kept all of his sentimental things. There was a life size portrait painting of him on one wall, and the rest of the room was full of memorabilia that he had collected over the years. Alex looked at the painting and let out a low whistle. "Well, I know where you got your hair." As much as Isabel wanted to go at him with a rude retort, she didn't, because it was true. She stared at the painting with Alex, impressed as ever by its grandeur. There was her father at the age of seventeen, all brown eyes and red hair standing in a deep red waistcoat with black needlework, in black slacks, with his arm around the neck of a moon silver horse.

"Come on, stop staring." Isabel mumbled. She dragged Alex through the door behind one of the dragon tapestries and into the closet space. She hunted around inside the door for the flashlight and as soon as she found it, flicked it on. Eventually she found a dress English dress suit set, complete with shoes. She shoved them in Alex's direction and flicked the light beam to the dressing room divider. "Try those on over there. I think they'll fit, but I want to be sure." She glanced at Alex's feet clad in flip-flops and sighed. "And let me get you some socks." After a few more moments of digging around, she found a pair of white, non-holey, non-stained socks, and tossed them at Alex, who caught them without really looking. Isabel handed him the flashlight and shooed him away. "Thanks," he said and disappeared behind the dressing divider.

Alex came out from behind the divider and Isabel caught her breath. He was absolutely gorgeous. Tall, thin, dressed well. The only thing that told her he wasn't a well-bred gentleman was his messy hair. "The hair," she said as he handed her the light. "We'll have to deal with that later, but other than that you look fine. Does everything feel alright?" 

He shrugged lightly. "More or less. Dress clothes are never 100% comfortable, you know."

"Boy, do I ever." Isabel said under her breath, quiet enough that he didn't hear. "I'll go get situated and whatnot. Do you want a shower before we go? I'm going to go run up the generator so I can do that, myself." Alex nodded and followed her around while she started the generator and then showed him to her parents' bathroom. She showed him how the 8 copper knobs of the tub worked, how some of them were actually herbal soaks and not plain water, and then she showed him the shower. "Use whichever you want," she told him, "just make sure you are done in 30 minutes. I have to deal with your hair and you have to get dressed after that." And with that, she left, shutting the door behind her with a resounding _click_. 

As soon as she left Alex, she went up to her room and put out every candle and doused the lamps. After that, Isabel went to the bathroom and stripped off her dirty clothes, pastry crumbs pouring out of the pockets onto the floor. She sighed and elected to deal with it later. She showered, did her makeup, put on her drawers and petticoats and bra, then cinched up her new long underbust corset. All her life she had worn corsets, and as a result of this, she could easily cinch 5 inches off her natural waist. She didn't, though. She only cinched to a 20 inch waist, 2 inches smaller than her natural one. After all that was done with, she looked at herself in the full length mirror and hiked up her petticoats, marching into her parents' room where she snatched her mother's short dressing gown off of its hook and put it on before making her way down the hall to the bathroom where Alex was.

Knocking delicately on the door, Isabel realized she hadn't closed up the gown. She did, hurriedly, just before the door swung open and Alex stepped back in order to let her in. If he thought her attire was strange, he didn't say anything; he just sat down obediently on the toilet lid while Isabel fussed over his hair. I didn't know your hair was wavy, Isabel," he said, lamely as she fought with his loose curls. She sighed. "Yeah, I usually straighten it to make it easier to deal with." She paused. "There, all done." 

Alex stood and inspected himself in the mirror. Isabel had managed to fight his hair into submission and it now at least looked well groomed, if not styled. "I never could make my hair cooperate. I guess we'll see how long this lasts." He said, but Isabel wasn't paying attention. She was looking through the black jewelry box painted with cherry blossoms and bamboo shoots, beside the sink. She eventually came up with earrings.

"You can't wear the ones you're wearing," she gently removed one of Alex's silver earrings and replaced it with a black gem stud, she moved to the other ear and replaced that one with a small, dangling one. It was teardrop shaped and made of what looked like a cobalt blue diamond. "I can put these in a box for you so they don't get lost." she offered, but Alex just shrugged and told her she could leave them on the sink. She did.

"I need to finish getting dressed and do my hair," Isabel announced, gliding to the door. "You can come with me or stay here." 

Of course he went with her.

As it turned out, Isabel needed helping when it came to putting on her dress. The layers were difficult to find the middle of and eventually, in a fit of frustration, Alex just stepped into the dress and pulled it up so Isabel could _find_ the middle. After that, Alex slid the sea of slithery fabric over her head and stared in amazement at her. The dress, once laced up properly, fit like a glove. Isabel missed his admirations and went straight to fixing her hair into an elaborate and exotic style her tutor had taught her long ago. While most of her hair got braided and curled and pinned up into delicate form, the bottom quarter of her hair was twisted loosely like rope. And then, after all that? She went at it with hairspray and pearled pins. By the time she was done, she looked so like a princess that Alex had to swallow a few times before he could answer her question. "Yeah," he said meekly. "You look beautiful."

Isabel shrugged, picking a small powder puff from a dish and tapped it on the edge of the dish before patting her collarbone and shoulders, then up along her cheekbones, across the bridge of her nose and the tips of her ears before putting it back. At fist, Alex wasn't sure if it did anything, but then when she moved to the door, he realized that she glittered in just the right way. She gave him a look. "Are you coming or not?" She asked.

"Don't you want shoes?" Alex asked, pointing to the small boots that still lay in the box. Isabel made a sound that could only be described as the feeling of "crap, I'm an idiot. how could I forget that?" and then sat in a chair. "Can you put them on?" She asked. "I'm sorry, but I won't be able to reach."

Alex looked confused. "You won't be able to r--ohhhh..." He nodded. " Right. skirts. Okay, but just this once, brainiac." He helped her into her shoes, realizing that the shoes were small, but her feet were also very small. "Jesus, Isabel. What size are your feet?"

"5  &1/2 USA Modern Womens." She rattled off as if it were a normal everyday question, then blinked. "Why do you ask?"

"Your feet are tiny." Alex pulled Isabel to her feet. The boots added about 3 inches to her height and now she reached his shoulder. Grinning, Isabel snatched a lace fan off of the desk and snapped it open, fanning herself with an air of superiority. She smiled flirtatiously and hid half her face behind the fan, her eyes shining with amusement. "Are you ready to go to a ball?" 

"I suppose I am." 


End file.
